


"If You Could Talk to the Animals"

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Prompt from AZGirl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4552368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AZGirl is to blame for this humorous (well I hope it is) piece of fiction.<br/>She gave me the prompt yesterday.<br/>Think Dr. Dolittle but with d'Artagnan playing the part.<br/>My title is inspired from the same movie and song which was called Talk to the Animals.<br/>You'll just have to use your imagination that everyone, including the animals, are talking in French. LOL!<br/>I hope I've done this justice for AZGirl! This one's for you.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (Part I)

_Garrison Stable_

"Ah you like that, don't you, boy?" d'Artagnan ran a hand lightly down Zad's long tail. He had finally finished grooming his horse when he was taken completely by surprise when Zad's tail swatted him in the face when d'Artagnan had bent down to retrieve a bucket of oats he had set aside. "Hey!" he turned his head around and glared directly into a pair of sardonic brown eyes. "Is that anyway to treat the man taking care of you?"

"I wanted you to continue brushing me," Zad snorted, "it felt good."

"I don't care how good it felt," d'Artagnan retorted hotly, picking up the feed bucket, "I was done." He was irritated at Zad's attitude of late. Being able to communicate with animals wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. For the umpteenth time d'Artagnan wished he hadn't inherited his maman's particular talent.

Oh growing up on the farm it had been amusing to watch his papa become upset with his maman thinking she had been taking papa to task over something gone awry and then realizing maman hadn't been speaking with papa after all but chastising one of their farm animals instead.

Turning all of eight years of age d'Artagnan found, much to his delight, that he could converse with all of God's creatures as well. It was just sometimes it was less than convenient when d'Artagnan forgot himself and had full-blown conversations within hearing distance of others. More specifically now that he lived in the garrison.

Today was to be one of relaxation as Captain Treville had given them some free time to do as they wished. They were going to spend it enjoying a peaceful picnic by a small lake, a short distance away from the city. D'Artagnan would just have to remember to resist the temptation to talk with any animal that decided it needed his attention. Otherwise his friends might feel he was _touched in the head_. Of course being from Gascony Porthos claimed d'Artagnan already was.

++++

_Enjoying nature_

"Ah!" Aramis sighed in contentment as he sprawled out on an overly large blanket they had positioned out of the sun's rays. "This is the life," he popped a few red grapes into his mouth and lazily turned his head to watch Porthos rolling around the green grass with their youngest. 'I say, Porthos," he chuckled, "we're supposed to be relaxing not pummeling one another."

"Pup here needs ta learn a few more basic tricks in hand-ta-hand," Porthos grunted as he took another swipe at d'Artagnan, kicking the boy's legs out from under him making the whelp land on his back with a loud whoosh.

"Leave be, Aramis," Athos' smile grew wider observing the lad out maneuver his much larger antagonist as d'Artagnan immediately got back to his feet and charged Porthos, knocking the older man to the ground.

"Leave be by all means," d'Artagnan's head swiveled to the left seeking out the unfamiliar voice. It had distracted him to the point where he left himself vulnerable to Porthos who then took advantage and managed to get the better of him. Landing on his ass, stunned, d'Artagnan blinked up at his much larger opponent. "What happened?"

"Ya lost concentration is what," Porthos huffed sadly.

As d'Artagnan's hand gripped his brother's, Porthos helped him gain his feet. Chagrined, he ducked his head. "Apologies," d'Artagnan smiled shyly at his teacher.

"Oh stop pestering the pup," Aramis chided. "We're supposed to be enjoying this lovely day we have been blessed with for a change," he scowled at Porthos, "not banging heads together."

"Aye," Porthos wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Off with ya, whelp," he gave a gentle push at the youngster's back and watched d'Artagnan head toward where he had Zad tied up.

With his back turned away from the inseparables, d'Artagnan spoke quietly to his horse. "Whose voice was that a few minutes ago?"

"You're talking to me again now are you?" Zad's tail nearly swatted the young man's butt this time.

"Don't be such a smartass," d'Artagnan hissed, looking about to make sure no one was staring at them.

Affronted, Zad snorted indignantly. "Do not compare me to a _donkey_."

Laying his head on the saddle, d'Artagnan squeezed his eyes shut. "Give me strength," he muttered. "It's a figure of speech."

"If you say so," Zad snapped.

Figuring that Zad wasn't in a cooperative mood, d'Artagnan strode away to sit beside the calming presence of his mentor underneath the shade of several trees. Watching Athos eat a wedge of cheese, d'Artagnan leaned forward to snatch a slice for himself from the plate on the ground.

"Can I have some?"

That same voice again, d'Artagnan thought as he whipped his head nearly all the way around trying to discover its owner.

"Psssst, I'm over here."

The voice sounded irritated with him and as d'Artagnan's ears perked up he managed to locate that it came from behind a small bush close to where the horses were all tied. Then, finally spotting it, d'Artagnan couldn't help himself and began to laugh.

"May I inquire as to what amuses you so?" Athos chewed on a piece of bread as he studied his protégé's odd behavior.

"Oh... ummmm," d'Artagnan dithered not knowing how to respond. But he was thankfully saved from replying when Porthos called Athos over to help him out with a debate going on between him and Aramis.

"Am I ever going to get something to eat?" the voice whined.

Cutting a small wedge of cheese, d'Artagnan waited for the young fox to make its approach. "I didn't know your kind liked cheese."

Its dark eyes blinked up at him while it ate the food. "Beggars can't be choosers," it munched some more and finished with an unexpected burp. "Got anymore?"

"If I keep feeding you my friends over there will think I've been a hog and ate it all myself." Risking a look over his shoulder, d'Artagnan noted that the inseparables were engaged in a discussion and weren't likely to pay him any attention for the moment.

"Did the little bugger finally get his fill?" a new voice broke in.

Thinking that the nice, leisurely picnic they were on wasn't such a hot idea after all, d'Artagnan looked down at the ground as he plucked at some blades of grass. When he lifted it back up, his gaze encountered Roger's watchful one. Before he could respond to that query, _Monsieur Fox_ decided to say his piece again.

"Not as much as he wished," the fox responded dryly. "Guess I should try my luck elsewhere."

Waving his hand in farewell as the small creature trotted away, d'Artagnan felt his shoulder nudged by Belle. "Now what's your complaint?" he glared at her.

"No need to get uppity with me, d'Artagnan," Belle scolded. "Seems Aramis' brain went out to lunch as he's forgotten to feed me."

"Oh," d'Artagnan instantly got to his feet. "I'll get you an apple." He went over to his saddlebag and dug one out as d'Artagnan always kept more than a few there for Zad. About to bring it to Belle he paused as Aramis called out to him.

"Come join us, mon frere," Aramis shouted, waving his arm at the boy.

"First I have to feed Belle since it kindly slipped your mind," d'Artagnan yelled back.

Brows drawn close as confusion showed on the marksman's face, Aramis glanced over at Athos and Porthos and saw them shrug back as they didn't know what Aramis' problem was. Looking over at the pup again, Aramis posed a question to him. "How did you know that, d'Artagnan, when even I had forgotten once we arrived at this beautiful spot?"

Forgetting himself, d'Artagnan blurted out the first thing that came to his lips. "Belle told me of course," and then he froze as his heart stopped beating when d'Artagnan realized what he had just admitted. But it appeared he had nothing to concern himself over as sounds of laughter reached his ears. Letting out a breath of relief, d'Artagnan thought that was a close call since it appeared his brothers thought he jested.

"Good one, d'Artagnan," Porthos piped up, wiping his eyes as tears of mirth ran down his cheeks.

Without taking his eyes off their young one, Athos questioned the sharpshooter. "Did you truly forget to feed Belle, Aramis?"

"I was so taken with this spot that I had quite simply forgot to do so," Aramis admitted with a wry exchange of looks with Porthos.

"There's no way d'Artagnan could have known that," Athos mused. Then he thought back to before they all had left the garrison. He had overheard d'Artagnan having a quiet conversation with someone inside the stable but knew the lad was alone. Athos just assumed d'Artagnan was talking to Zad, not an uncommon thing to do with ones own horse. Still, he studied the youngster as d'Artagnan fed Belle the promised apple. Perhaps Athos was trying to read to much into the situation.

"Porthos did feed me but could I wheedle another apple from you, d'Artagnan," Roulette gazed longingly at the luscious, red apple in the young man's hand that d'Artagnan had just given to Belle.

"No problem, but don't complain to me later if you develop a stomach ache." Reaching into his saddlebag once more d'Artagnan pulled out another shiny apple. Startled, he nearly dropped it when out of nowhere a hand clasped his shoulder and held on tightly.

"Do not tell me Roulette just asked for something to eat as well," Athos arched an eyebrow at the lad, canting his head to the side.

Feeling cornered like one of the many creatures he could talk with, d'Artagnan chuckled trying to make light of it. "Oui, something like that."

"Come," Athos steered their youngest away from the beasts and toward the blanket where the others rested.

Once d'Artagnan joined them he tried to relax more in his own skin, hoping against hope that no other animals decided to pepper him with questions... especially about food. In this he got his wish until Athos called it a day and wanted to head back to the garrison before darkness came upon them. Having no wish to be overtaken by cut-purses in the night.

++++

_En route home_

Pointing upward, Porthos squinted his eyes as he watched something flying high overhead. "Ain't them one of King Louis' falcons?"

Bending his head slightly back, Aramis covered his eyes with a gloved hand keeping the sun's glare away. "Seems like the king's falcons are taking the scenic tour."

"WATCH OUT, BOY!" Athos yelled harshly as he pulled out his pistol prepared to strike down the bird of prey before it dug its claws into d'Artagnan's tender flesh. But in this instance Athos' reaction time was short of his usual standard as the Musketeer watched in horror the falcon landing on d'Artagnan before Athos could fire off a single shot.

No fear filled him as the falcon perched gently on d'Artagnan's shoulder. "Guess you're hungry too," d'Artagnan snickered softly. "But, _Sir Falcon_ , you are out of luck as you can see I have no small birds, mice, squirrels nor insects on my person to give you that would satisfy your hunger."

"Silly human," the falcon scoffed. "I came to warn you that there are bandits waiting for you and your party around the next bend," the falcon's feathers ruffled gently from the breeze as Zad picked up the pace.

"Merci," d'Artagnan inclined his head in acknowledgment and then felt the winged creature take off into the sky. Holding his hand up in the air, d'Artagnan turned in the saddle to look back at his brother's shocked faces. He knew this would be damning for him but there wasn't time for evasive lies. "Ambush up ahead, mon amis!"

"Astonished, still not quite believing what his own eyes registered, Athos was bewildered by it all. "How come you suddenly by that information?"

Saying the only words he knew Athos would respond well too right now, d'Artagnan stared directly into his mentor's blue eyes. " _Trust me_."

And the inseparables did as they split up and took different routes, eventually coming upon the maladrins and surrounding them. With the element of surprise on their side they easily captured the band of thieves. As the Musketeers entered the garrison with their prisoners, Athos threw d'Artagnan a look that clearly meant _they would be talking about this later_.

++++

_Garrison stable_

"So tell them and quit dragging your tail behind you," Roger dug into his barrel of oats as he studied the dejected form of the boy leaning against one of the posts.

"Yeah, what he said," Roulette agreed, trying to nudge Roger aside so he too could enjoy the feed.

"Lest you forget, Roger," d'Artagnan fired back snidely, "I do not have a _tail_."

"Figure of speech, my boy," Roger nearly grinned at the glare the youngster sent his way, thinking it was so easy to rile d'Artagnan up. In this respect Roger imitated his owner to perfection.

"I'm sure they'll be understanding," Belle commented sweetly from the relative comfort of her stall.

"They'll understand he's _nuts_ ," Zad snorted and glanced at d'Artagnan with eyes full of mischief.

"Your vote of confidence overwhelms me at times," d'Artagnan remarked drolly, rolling his eyes at Zad.

"We've always had _confidence_ in you," Roger admitted. "You lacked that quality in yourself, afraid to tell them how special you really are."

Throwing his hands up in the air, d'Artagnan's laughter was wild. "Right! Tell them _I can talk with animals_ ," he retorted. "That'll go down really well," he tapped his pauldron hard. "I won't be wearing this much longer if I admit that."

"We think you just did," Belle pointed out.

"They're behind me aren't they?" d'Artagnan whispered in fright. Seeing four pair of equine heads bobbing up and down in unison, he closed his eyes and waited for the worst to happen as d'Artagnan faced his fate.

All three Musketeers wore curious but amused expressions as they stared at their young one.

Arms crossed, Porthos' black eyes sparkled back at the whelp. "Thought it was a farm thing with ya at first."

"Had all manner of creatures literally eating out of your hands at times," Aramis smiled fondly at the bemused boy.

"It wasn't until this last incident with the falcon, followed by your warning to us that things finally began to add up," Athos added, warmth for the lad clear in his tone.

"Imagin' our whelp havin' a talent like that," Porthos grinned, proud as can be. "Shame though it couldn't have been somethin' really useful like readin' minds. I could have cleaned up at the card tables with a handy trick like that."

"Never the less, child," Aramis embraced a surprised d'Artagnan, "we shall never divulge your secret."

"We are greatly relieved to put our minds at ease over this matter," Athos reached out to clasp his younger brother's arm affectionately.

"Now what we'd really be interested in finding out is what our horses think about us?" Aramis was curious to know Belle's thoughts of his treatment of her.

Greeted with this piece of daunting news, d'Artagnan glanced over his shoulder at the inseparable's horses and winced.

"Don't do it," Zad warned him. "Some things are not fit for human ears."

Hearing Belle, Roulette and Roger all snort in agreement, d'Artagnan swallowed the lump building up in his throat. Seeing the animals all take turns looking at each other, d'Artagnan shook his head to clear it. For it appeared to him that they were all wearing smirks of one kind or another and perhaps they were at that. Turning away, d'Artagnan cleared his throat as he stared innocently back at his brothers. "Well, guys, it's like this..."

The End


	2. (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For AZGirl who asked for the original prompt and then wanted a little bit more.
> 
> ++++
> 
> King Louis' horse is named Valery.
> 
> ++++

_A hunting we will go (or perhaps not)_

Athos and Porthos rode abreast of King Louis, while Aramis and d'Artagnan covered the rear. They were followed closely by a unit of five Red Guards as well.

Noticing d'Artagnan wincing, Aramis feared the boy was in pain and grew concerned for their youngest. "Are you well?"

Trying to evade Aramis' worried gaze, d'Artagnan kept his head averted.

Drawing Belle closer to the boy, Aramis placed a hand on d'Artagnan's arm. "I asked you a question, d'Artagnan," he huffed. "I expect an answer."

Glancing sideways at his friend, d'Artagnan leaned toward Aramis. "It's just that King Louis' horse is giving me a _pain_ in the head."

Chuckling softly, Aramis' brown eyes twinkled. "May I ask what Valery has to say that is causing you such distress?"

"Oh you really, really don't want to know," d'Artagnan shook his head. He could see every now and then Athos turning his head back toward them wondering if something was wrong and if he should be alerted over it.

"Oh but I really do, mon frere," Aramis insisted, a smile teasing his lips.

Hesitating at first, then plunging on, d'Artagnan told him. "Valery thinks the king's an _ass_ ," d'Artagnan paused as Aramis' eyes widened in surprise and then watched as his friend covered his mouth, stifling his mirth.

"Quit that," d'Artagnan hissed. "Do you want to get us into trouble?"

"Apologies, mon ami," Aramis shoulders still shook with his quiet laughter. "Why does Valery feel this way?"

"He's tired of constantly going on these endless hunts," once again d'Artagnan paused as this time it was Porthos who glanced back over at them. His large friend probably thought there was something of more interest going on back here than up front with the king. "Ummmm, er where was I? Oh yeah, especially when there's nothing to show for it because the king hardly ever manages to catch anything." Then d'Artagnan began to chuckle himself at something else he could hear Valery grumbling over. "Valery's also jealous, feeling the king dotes on the falcons more than on him."

"Does Valery know of your particular talent?" Aramis tilted his head studying the lad closely.

"Not that I'm aware of," d'Artagnan smirked. "I'm not the one who grooms His Majesty's horses. So unless our own mounts have been keeping company with him and have divulged my secret to Valery, I highly doubt it."

Patting the youngster's shoulder, Aramis pulled Belle slightly away from Zad.

As the hunt progressed, or digressed shall we say from the lack of bagging anything noteworthy, all the Musketeers had dismounted and were protecting the king from all angles, along with the Red Guard contingent.

"Someone should put a stop to these so called _hunts_ ," Roulette moaned.

"All I want to do is go back to my comfortable stall and sleep for the remainder of the day," Belle added.

"I wonder what would happen if I _pooped_ where the king could step in it," Roger snorted.

"Simply marvelous idea," Belle cooed.

"Right smart that," Roulette grunted in agreement. "Then we'd be heading back pronto cause His Majesty wouldn't want to go prancing about with muck like that on himself, stinking up the place."

" _Don't... You... Dare!_ " D'Artagnan whispered fiercely in Roger's ear, happening to be close enough to have heard the entire conversation.

"Shucks," Roulette butted his head against the young Musketeer's arm, "you're always spoiling our fun."

"Not always," Belle disagreed, snickering softly. "There was that one time d'Artagnan didn't stop Roger from pushing Aramis into the horse trough."

"I remember that incident," Roger nayed, shaking his mane out. "That one preens about so prettily. He's worse than a woman. It irked me at the time."

Happy that the inseparables weren't privy to this oh so delightful conversation, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes and hoped the king would soon call a halt to this hunt.

"Oh, d'Artagnan!" King Louis hailed the lad. "Do come join me," he waited somewhat impatiently for his champion to arrive.

Glad to be away, even briefly, d'Artagnan jogged over to where the king stood. "May I be of any assistance, sire?"

"I noticed how good you are with horses and wondered if you could figure out what is troubling Valery so," King Louis was exasperated with the animal. "Every single time I've tried to remount him he backs a few paces away and my foot continuously misses the stirrup," King Louis threw out both arms and then slapped them to his side. "Last time Valery nearly caused me to fall on the ground. If it weren't for Athos' quick reflexes I would have," he smiled and nodded to Athos who stood beside d'Artagnan.

Bowing, d'Artagnan smiled. "I will do my best, Your Majesty." Knowing full well what was behind Valery's treatment of his master, d'Artagnan held his breath as he made his approach over to the ornery horse.

Since it was not out of the norm for one to speak with their own animals no one, other than the inseparables and their own horses, thought anything unusual as d'Artagnan began to speak softly to Valery.

"I know you desperately want to go back home," d'Artagnan stroked his hand down Valery's long tail, "but in the meantime you have to please the king." D'Artagnan then acted like he was checking the horse over for any signs of injury.

"I have to please nobody but myself," Valery snorted. "So you heard and understood me earlier?" Seeing the boy nod his head, Valery calmed under his ministrations. "You've got to be bored silly as much as I am."

"Even if so," d'Artagnan's eyes narrowed, "I am a Musketeer and cannot let it show."

"I'm no damn Musketeer and I _can_ let it show!" Valery swished his tail so hard that it hit d'Artagnan in the boy's butt.

"Okay," d'Artagnan snapped, "I'm done here!" Walking away from the damnable creature, he went back over to the king's side.

"Bien, d'Artagnan?" King Louis hoped the younger man figured out what the problem was for he would hate to have to end the hunt because of this.

"Honestly there's nothing physically wrong that I can tell," d'Artagnan said. "Though it could be a problem internally," he lied outright with his fingers crossed behind his back. "If perhaps that's the case it would be best to call a halt to your hunt today and head back to the palace."

Sighing, clearly this wasn't the news King Louis hoped for. "Oh all right," he snapped, not mad at the boy just Valery for getting sick.

Passing Valery on the way over to where he left Zad patiently waiting, d'Artagnan heard Valery's words quite clearly but didn't let them get to him.

"You _lied_ to the king, Musketeer."

Not bothering to stop and acknowledge the remark, d'Atagnan calmly mounted Zad, not daring a look at Valery's pleased face.

"None of the other horses much care for Valery," Zad offered with a bob of his head, "just so you know." He felt the youngster situating himself comfortably in the saddle.

"Gee whiz I wonder why?" d'Artagnan sneered. Then suddenly he heard the king shouting as d'Artagnan instantly pulled out his musket from his weapon's belt. After he dismounted though he was able to see what the commotion was all about and nearly burst out laughing.

"Arggggh!" King Louis yelled again. "My boots are covered in horse dung!" he tried to shake it off to no avail. "Mon Dieu! The stench!"

Striding over to where a riderless Roger still stood, d'Artagnan collected himself and hissed, "You didn't?" remembering Roger's earlier remark.

"I wanted too," Roger replied with a flick of his head, "but looks like someone else beat me to the punch."

Following Roger's gaze, d'Artagnan noted Valery standing quite close to the king's position as he realized what the horse had done.

"Did you know of this?" Athos questioned the boy as he walked up to d'Artagnan. 

Looking into Athos' cool gaze, a slow smile spread across d'Artagnan's face. "Mmmmm," he hummed. "It was Roger's idea originally," he saw Athos' brows rise at his comment, "but then Valery decided to get into the act."

"Ah!" Needing no further words of explanation, Athos shook his head, gave d'Artagnan a wry smile, turned around and left the boy. 

"Does this mean we get to go home now?" Roulette whined hopefully.

"What do you think?" Belle whinnied loudly.

Sitting quietly on Zad, d'Artagnan thought perhaps their motto... _All for one and one for all_ didn't just stand for the Musketeers as d'Artagnan observed Valery wink at Roulette, Belle and Roger as the king's horse was led past them.

The End (really this time)


	3. (Part III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, AZGirl pushed for another chapter.  
> THIS IS IT! I MEAN IT THIS TIME! LOL!  
> And don’t you dare go laughing Sigmund because I told you I wouldn’t do anymore and here I am doing another one. I can hear your laughter clear back over in Beaver Falls, PA where I live. LOL!
> 
> ++++

_Next Day, Musketeer canteen_

The drama of yesterday over, d’Artagnan had had a lively conversation with all the inseparable’s horses, including his own, on the merits of _horse dung_ once he got them all settled in their stalls. It was knowledge that he could have very well lived without knowing, for they went into great detail until d'Artagnan thought for sure he'd never look at another piece of horse shit in the same way ever again.

He did end up chuckling quietly to himself as d'Artagnan had heard whispers coming from several palace retainers of the king ordering a new pair of handmade boots. Apparently the stench quite overwhelmed His Majesty and he didn’t even want his footwear cleaned just removed and thrown away once he had arrived back at the palace.

He finished up feeding the horses, wondering what it would be like to have so much wealth that d’Artagnan could throw away a good pair of boots just because he had walked into horse dung. Leaving the stable, d’Artagnan headed for the canteen where he nearly tripped over a tan and white blur that rushed past his feet.

Recognizing the cat, he called out, “Dace! Whoa! Slow up there!” Catching up to the frenzied animal, d’Artagnan went down on his knees as he noticed how Dace was shaking. Holding out a non-threatening hand d’Artagnan placed it on top of the cat’s head, rubbing gently and noticed when it came away his hand was all wet. That’s when it hit him that Dace was literally drenched. “What mischief did you get into, mon ami?”

“Serge took a dislike to me stealing a fresh piece of fish he was going to prepare,” Dace butted his head against d’Artagnan’s hand. “He chased me down and threw a bucket of water at me.”

“Which explains away your new look,” d’Artagnan chuckled as he stood up with Dace in his arms. "It's the latest thing in Parisian cat fashion I hear," still laughing his feet took him up the steps leading to his room. “I'm taking you to the barracks where I can find a towel to dry you off.”

Lifting its head up from where it nestled in the boy’s arms, Dace blinked owlishly up at him not quite certain that would be a good idea. “I do not know how welcome I would be there as Musketeer Bertrand appears to be allergic to my fur.”

“Ah!” d’Artagnan remembered that the night before last had turned suddenly brisk and he let Dace sleep in comfort underneath his bed. And later that night Bertrand had a sneezing fit declaring there must be a cat in residence since that is usually the only time he is affected. Tickling Dace underneath his chin, d’Artagnan laughed. “We’ll take our chances, Monsieur Chat.”

++++

_Barracks_

“I see no sign of any of my brothers, Dace,” d’Artagnan grinned, “so the coast is clear.” Placing the bedraggled cat on top of an empty table, he went to retrieve some towels. When he came back d’Artagnan proceeded to dry the animal off so vigorously that Dace hissed at him.

“That’s my _skin_ you're rubbing raw,” Dace tossed his head elegantly in the air.

“Do not act as if you are better than I with that arrogant pose,” d’Artagnan tugged gently on Dace’s tail to make sure he got the message and smiled when the cat relaxed under his hands. “By the way where have you been sleeping lately since I haven’t seen you around in the evenings?”

Sniffing in distaste, Dace gave d’Artagnan a sour look, or as sour as a cat could make it. “Over in the palace stables where they house that that snooty, stuck up, Valery.”

Eyebrows rising high, d’Artagnan looked down upon the cat in disbelief. “I cannot think that went down very well with Valery.”

“It didn’t,” Dace snorted. “As soon as I find a couple of field mice I’m going back there and drop them in his stall,” he snickered. “That’ll teach Valery a lesson he won't soon forget.”

“You’re not living up to your name you know,” d’Artagnan scolded mildly.

“How so?”

“Your name means _of the nobility_ ,” d’Artagnan smiled easily at the indignant look Dace gave him.

“I never claimed to be _noble_ ,” Dace spat. “You’re the one who dubbed me with that moniker.”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan shook his head woefully, “what was I thinking?”

“That’s it!” Dace snapped. “Just make fun of the poor cat why don't you!"

Throwing his towel aside, d'Artagnan stood up to take a look at his handiwork and was well pleased. "You look like your old self," he picked up Dace and placed him on the floor. "I think Serge's kitchen should be considered dangerous territory for you and off limits for the time being."

"Hmmpf!" Dace arched his back. "We shall see." Following d'Artagnan out the door, Dace brushed past him and went down the steps first.

When Dace reached the bottom, he wrapped himself around d'Artagnan's legs and purred. "My thanks for the kindness."

"I'll do you one more," d'Artagnan winked at him. "Just follow me." So d'Artagnan headed to the canteen hearing Dace snarling behind him.

"You're taking me into that _dangerous territory_ you warned me about," Dace stopped in his tracks.

"Serge _likes_ me," d'Artagnan grinned. "You stay here for a minute. I'll be right back." True to his word, he was back quicker than that carrying a bowl full of fresh milk. Setting it down next to Dace he watched as the cat seemed afraid to go near it. "Do not worry that Serge poisoned it," d'Artagnan's eyes were alight with humor. "I personally asked for a glass of milk and snatched an empty bowl from the countertop as I walked past."

Lapping up the delicious surprise quickly, when Dace finished his pink tongue poked out to lick the remains from his mouth. "Merci, d'Artagnan."

"So what will you do with the rest of your day mmmmm?"

"Remember those _field mice_ I mentioned in regards to Valery?" Dace started to go off in another direction. "Valery's going to wish he never made an enemy of me."

Watching the cat trot off, d'Artagnan was glad he wasn't Valery.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

"Why are all those birds nosediving for my head?" Aramis exclaimed as he was trying to practice his marksmanship. But either a bird landed on his hat making him lose concentration or birds kept flying back and forth in front of his targets. He could hear Porthos and even Athos laughing at him from their comfortable perches atop one of the benches.

"Perhaps you should get d'Artagnan to see to the problem, eh, Aramis," Athos chuckled noting his friend swatting at the lively birds.

"I wonder ifin' the whelp talked the tiny things inta givin' Aramis fits," Porthos whispered to his brother.

"Why don't you ask him yourself," Athos nodded straight ahead of him, watching Porthos turn his head to see d'Artagnan coming toward them.

Grabbing the boy's arm, Porthos dragged d'Artagnan down to sit beside him. "See over there," Porthos pointed to where Aramis stood struggling to take a clean shot. "Did ya do that?"

Really not understanding Porthos' question, d'Artagnan gave him a blank look.

Seeing the necessity of interpretation, Athos sighed. "D'Artagnan, did you tell the birds to pester Aramis?"

"Oh," understanding dawned in d'Artagnan's head as he shyly ducked. "Ummmm, er, well...." Feeling a slap on his shoulder, d'Artagnan peeked up at Porthos' laughing face.

"That's a _yes_ in my book, whelp," Porthos' shoulders shook as he continued to watch Aramis finally give up when his friend turned around and headed back to their table.

"Who won?" Athos' lips twitched as he swore to himself he would not laugh in the face of Aramis' anger.

"From where I was sittin'," Porthos smiled at his brothers, "it looked like _birds_ ten and _Aramis_ zero."

"Whose side are you on?" Aramis snapped and sat down joining his comrades. "Must be something they're trying to protect because I've never seen them act that way before."

Not wanting Aramis to focus on him, d'Artagnan stood up. "I'll catch you all later as I promised the captain I'd run an errand for him."

"Don't forget, d'Artagnan, that we have an appointment later in the day as well with Monsieur Lacroix," Athos gave the younger man a sharp look.

"I'll _try_ not to be late this time," d'Artagnan smiled warmly at his mentor before departing. Though he knew Athos could hear it in d'Artagnan's voice that he was dreading the coming torture.

"May I ask who Monsieur Lacroix is?" Aramis exchanged a quizzical look with Porthos as they both turned to observe an odd expression cross Athos' face.

"Well, it would seem that Queen Anne got it into her head that d'Artagnan needed to meet some well bred, gentile ladies and what better way than at one of the king's upcoming soirees," Athos rolled his eyes. "The boy lacks the basic essentials as to the type of dances that will be expected of him, and d'Artagnan did not want to look the fool so I have called in a favor you could say."

"This Lacroix," Porthos' dark eyes twinkled, "he's a dance teacher right?"

"On the money, mon ami," Athos laughed, seeing Aramis shaking his head in amusement.

"I gather from what you told the lad and how our youngest responded that d'Artagnan is none too fond of Monsieur Lacroix and his classes," Aramis smiled.

"Last week, before we left Lacroixs, d'Artagnan said something to the man's dog and next thing I knew was that the damn dog pissed on Lacroix's shoes!" Athos began laughing at the memory.

"Mon dieu! Our pup has balls all right!" Porthos wished he could have been there to see that sight.

"I only hope we do not have a repeat performance again," Athos tone was dry, wincing at the thought of the boy's lesson.

"I say," Aramis glanced at his friends, "now that I think upon it I bet d'Artagnan's behind my _bird attack_."

Leaning toward Athos, Porthos began to laugh. "Bit slow on the uptake is our Aramis, eh?"

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Athos agreed.

++++

_Monsieur Lacroix's dance studio_

Watching d'Artagnan's poor attempt at dancing with his partner Alysse, Lacroix felt his considerable experience was not going to be of any help to the boy. Walking over to Athos he grimaced when he nodded his head in the youngster's direction. "That one shouldn't be allowed on a dance floor."

"That bad?" Athos winced as he noted d'Artagnan step on Alysse's dainty foot for the fourth time in a row.

"He keeps up like that and Alysse will be limping to the coming soiree," Lacroix remarked drolly.

"It wasn't d'Artagnan's idea in the first place to attend," Athos told him. "The lad's more used to the barn dances they held back home."

"We cannot suggest to the king to have _those_ types of dances held at his soiree," Lacroix's voice went up an octave at Athos' words.

"I did not mean to imply that!" Athos growled, irritated with the man beyond belief. Seeing frustration growing on the boy as well, Athos held up his hand to get the lad's attention. "Enough! Let us take our leave, d'Artagnan."

Bowing and apologizing at the same time to the lady Alysse, d'Artagnan started to go to his mentor but noticed Lacroix's dog sitting quietly in the corner. Going over to the animal, d'Artagnan asked something of him. "Do me a favor?"

"Another one?" the dog lazily lifted his head to look up at the youngster. "I don't have to _pee_ yet. So can't be that again."

"How about chewing on your master's shoes that I can see over by the piano," d'Artagnan suggested while rubbing behind the dog's ears.

"Those are his best dancing shoes," the dog stood up, glanced over at the shiny footwear and then back up at d'Artagnan's innocent smile. "Do it for all dogs everywhere," he encouraged. D'Artagnan was irritated over Lacroix's attitude with him and wanted nothing better than to get even. So as d'Artagnan finally met Athos by the door they both heard a thunderous roar.

" _NOT MY SHOES!_ "

After they left, Athos glared at the boy. "You didn't?" But seeing the smirk d'Artagnan easily wore, Athos blew out a breath of exasperation.

++++

_Garrison stables_

"I wish I could have seen the look on that Lacroix's face when you had that man's dog chew his shoes to bits," Zad nuzzled his snout against d'Artagnan's face as the boy finished grooming him.

"Serves Lacroix right I say," Roulette snorted. "The whelp probably could show that stuffed up popinjay a thing or two about country dancing."

"What did Athos think?" Roger chewed on some fresh hay d'Artagnan had just given him.

"He wasn't too pleased with me," d'Artagnan admitted as he went over to Belle's stall.

"Athos just wants you to be the best you can be, d'Artagnan," Belle swished her tail playfully at the boy went d'Artagnan bent down to get her feed bucket.

"I'm afraid Her Majesty will just have to accept the fact that I'm a Musketeer not a dancer," d'Artagnan sadly said.

"I say," Roger exclaimed, "Dace what are you doing here again? I thought you were looking for another place to stay as we have enough with Chanel and her possible brood living with us?"

Turning his head, d'Artagnan noticed that Dace went to stand near Roulette. "Did you need something?"

"A hideout would be good," Dace looked at the horses warily as they all stared incredulously at him, making Dace scoot closer to d'Artagnan's side.

"Come clean, Dace," d'Artagnan huffed. "What did you do this time?"

"Valery's on the warpath," Dace reluctantly admitted.

"If you gave that good for nothing horse trouble you and me are friends for life," Roulette announced with pleasure.

"It was the _field mice_ right?" Watching Dace slowly nod his head, d'Artagan sighed and sat down on an overturned bucket. "Valery took exception I take it?"

"And then some," Dace agreed, still appearing a bit shaken from his mad dash away from Valery's hoofs.

"Will someone please tell us clueless horses here what that darn cat did?" Roger grumbled.

"Dace needed someplace warm for the night and Valery took exception that Dace used his personal stables to do it in," d'Artagnan explained. "Valery put up a fuss and kicked Dace out," he shrugged. "Putting the field mice in Valery's stall was payback."

"Brilliant strategy that," Belle said.

"It was until Valery noticed me," Dace said as he jumped up into d'Artagnan's lap.

When d'Artagnan looked down at Dace's back he noticed some slight bleeding. "Did Valery kick you with his hoofs?"

"Oui," Dace snuggled further into the warm comfort the boy provided.

"Let me have a go at Valery!" Roulette growled. "He should have picked on someone his own size to beat up on!"

Standing up, d'Artagnan held Dace close, running his hand through the silky fur. "I'm going to go treat Dace's injury and will check on all of you later."

"Couldn't you let Roulette loose tonight?" Dace inquired curiously.

"It woudn't be worth my life to face Porthos in the morning if I did," d'Artagnan snorted, closing the stable doors behind him.

Walking past the canteen, old Serge strode over causing Dace to hiss. "Shoosh, stop that," d'Artagnan urged. Trying to gentle the cat in his arms, d'Artagnan smiled at the ex-Musketeer.

When Serge drew close his eyes narrowed on the cat. "That's my fish stealin' thief!" Wiping his hands on his apron, Serge noticed the cat had a bit of blood on top of his back. "He injured?"

"Slightly, oui," d'Artagnan replied.

Heart softening at the sight, Serge signaled for them to follow him back into the canteen where he let d'Artagnan treat the cat's wound. He then surprised the pair by placing a plate on the table filled with a few delicacies only a cat would love. "Give em' that when your done, d'Artagnan." Turning to leave Serge paused as the cat meowed his pleasure. "Just you stay away from my fish!" he shook his fist but smiled as he went back to baking.

"That was different," Dace said, watching the old man go into his kitchen.

"Told you before," d'Artagnan whispered, "you just need to treat Serge right."

++++

Feeling more like himself now, Dace kept up with d'Artagnan as they headed toward the palace stables. "Is this wise?"

Doing a doubletake as d'Artagnan stared down at Dace, he chuckled. "You nearly sounded like Athos there for a second."

"Is Athos a wise man given to wise counsel?"

" _The wisest_ ," d'Artagnan smiled.

"Then I am happy to be compared to him," Dace slowed down when they got to Valery's stall.

"Just stay here," d'Artagnan ordered firmly.

"Pffft! And where else should I be?"

"God give me strength," d'Artagnan whispered under his breath as he entered the dragon's den.

Turning his head, Valery snorted when he saw who his visitor was. "You again. To what do I owe the pleasure this time?"

"You hurt a friend of mine recently," d'Artagnan stood close to the horse.

"I doubt it," Valery sneered. "You and I don't exactly share the same circles."

"My, oh my," d'Artagnan shook his head. "Aren't you full of yourself. Giving off airs. Thinking you are better than everyone else only because the king places a hand-tooled Spanish saddle on your backside."

"What's the point of this conversation?" Valery snapped, not liking the tone in the youngster's voice.

"Be charitable once in awhile to others that lack what you take for granted," d'Artagnan pointed out. "Like a roof over your head, plenty of food to fill your stomach, someone to tend to your injuries."

"If your trying to get around to saying that I should let that flea infested vermin share the stable with me... you're crazy!" Valery noticed d'Artagnan walk toward the cat who crouched in the corner looking ready to sink its sharp claws into Valery any second.

"I've been called _crazy_ by better people than you," d'Artagnan laughed, "that's nothing new."

"And I do not have fleas!" Dace shouted indignantly.

"He's right about that," d'Artagnan announced proudly. "I take care of that myself."

"Forget it, d'Artagnan," Dace snarled, "there's no way Valery will agree to this."

"Why doesn't Dace make his home in the Musketeer's stable?" Valery had wondered about that from the moment he caught Dace sharing his own home.

"Because Chanel lives there and is ready to give birth to her litter soon," Dace sniffed. "It's going to be too crowded in there. That's why I was looking for a new place to stay."

"You know, Valery," d'Artagnan broke in, "even King Louis shows compassion from time to time to even his lowliest of subjects. Why couldn't you do the same?"

Looking Dace in the eyes, Valery stiffly warned, "No mice. If I see evidence of even one tiny mouse in my stable or stall you'll be out on your tail faster than you can say your own name."

"You saying I can stay?" Dace wasn't sure if Valery was pulling a fast one over him or not.

"The kid's good at making someone feel bad," Valery admitted. "Besides d'Artagnan's right about me having more than most."

"Then if everything's settled," d'Artagnan rubbed his hands together, "I've got to go get changed."

"For what?" Valery asked curiously.

"The soiree that the king is having is tonight and the queen has insisted I am to be a guest this time," d'Artagnan sighed. "This is her way of having me meet some lovely young thing," he rolled his eyes.

"I've got enough of my own _lovely young things_ right here with me," Valery jerked his head toward the back of the stable where several mares were boarded. "I don't envy you, kid."

"D'Artagnan," Dace rubbed up against the boy's leg.

"You have something to add, eh?" d'Artagnan folded his arms and waited.

"Just make sure not to step on her feet."

Dace and Valery's mutual laughter followed d'Artagnan all the way back to the garrison.

The End _(I'm afraid to say this is it)_


	4. (Part IV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By many requests… oui, my dearies, another installment.  
> Since TinkerBella wanted a soiree again she got her wish. Enjoy, mon ami!
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early evening – Royal Palace Ballroom… the Soiree_

“Tell me again why I am here?” Tugging on his frilly, lace shirt partially hidden underneath his other fancy attire, d’Artagnan was annoyed with his mentor observing Athos’ smirk grow ever prominent on his face. Athos was currently standing guard alongside Porthos and Aramis for tonight’s festivities.

Leaning forward, Aramis’ breath teased d’Artagnan’s hair when he whispered, “The queen holds you in high regard, lad.” With a gentle squeeze to d’Artagnan’s arm Aramis went back into formation.

Grinning, Porthos nodded agreeing with his brother. “Aye, whelp,” he winked. “Remember you’re the king’s champion and all that comes with it.”

Captain Treville appeared to be highly amused at his discomfort especially when d’Artagnan pulled a face. “But I can't dance!” he protested. Feeling the captain pat his back in sympathy then put both hands on d’Artagnan’s slim shoulders to completely turn him around to face the dance floor, d'Artagnan hesitated. But then Treville's gentle shove forced d'Artagnan to move his legs and walk toward the dais where King Louis and Queen Anne awaited him. Stumbling toward the royal couple, d’Artagnan glanced back at his captain who just waved him on his way.

++++

Sneaking inside the Louvre was simplicity itself for Dace. Knowing all the ins and outs of the palace was common knowledge for a cat like himself. He had promised the inseparable’s horses, and even that stuck up Valery, to give them an in depth report on how d’Artagnan fared tonight in his first soiree.

He found the most delightful place to hide under by just following his nose which led Dace to a huge buffet table. Making himself comfortable he nestled into a cozy spot where not only could he view the proceedings and give encouragement to d’Artagnan but get a few tidbits to eat every so often.

Looking at all the fine lords and ladies, Dace had to admit that it seemed a grand party. When he swiveled his head around he finally caught sight of d’Artagnan attempting to dance with a young woman. Key word here was _attempting_.

What the boy’s feet were surely trying to do in no way resembled any dances Dace had ever witnessed before. Even though he was just an ordinary cat he had still been to his fair share of parties. It’s how he managed to survive on the streets these past five years. Pickings were too good to pass up at these events; kitchen scraps went a long way to his longevity. Alas, dancing was never something Dace truly appreciated and watching less so especially when it involved d'Artagnan. He winced studying the boy's atrocious footwork. Covering his eyes with both paws, Dace had to look away from the painful sight.

++++

“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” Chanel murmured as she put a halt to their dance while many couples glided past them, “I do not believe the Allemande does you justice.

Thoroughly embarrassed, d’Artagnan flushed crimson. “My humble apologies, Mademoiselle,” he winced. “Tis _I_ that does not do justice to the dance,” d’Artagnan sent her an apologetic look. “I have two left feet it appears.”

Laughing gently at the young man’s admission, Chanel took him by the arm leading him off the dance floor. “ _One_ at least,” she hummed. "It seemed it had a life of its own." Observing Her Majesty watching them she said, “Let me guess, Queen Anne pushed you into this.”

Peeking at her from beneath his long eyelashes, d’Artagnan smiled slightly. “In a manner of speaking. She has the kindest of hearts. I couldn’t find it in myself to refuse her request of me.”

“You’re probably more at home with country dances than the types played at court,” Chanel commented.

“I doubt the musical ensemble King Louis hired would know how to play any of them,” d’Artagnan eyed the ballroom and sadly shook his head. Everyone appeared to know what they were doing but him. He could have sunk through the floor. Why didn’t he pay more attention to those dance classes Athos made him take? Too late now to do anything about it. “Nor would the upper classes here know how to move to that type of music.”

“I agree,” Chanel curtsied, exchanging a wry grin with d’Artagnan. “I am going to get some refreshments and sit the next dance out.”

“In other words,” d’Artagnan chuckled, “you’re going to remove your shoes and rub the circulation back into your poor toes that I abused.”

Her eyes sparkled with delight at the young man who could make light of himself. Chanel’s mirth joined d’Artagnan’s. “I wouldn’t have put it quite in those terms though.”

Watching her departure d’Artagnan headed for the nearest punch bowl to drown his sorrows, wishing he could spike the liquid with something stronger.

++++

“Pssst, d'Artagnan!” Dace tried to get the boy’s attention without calling it to himself in the process. All he needed was for a palace guard to discover his hiding place and then he’d be out on his tail. “Pssst!”

Sipping the sweet, red liquid, d’Artagnan stared into his glass. “What did they put into this? Tastes God awful,” he placed the glass onto the table. Determined to not make another poor show of it, d’Artagnan was about to join a group of young people that were huddled together in a corner of the room when he heard his name called. No one near him appeared to be trying to get his attention, so shrugging it off he started to leave and then heard his name again.

“I’m under here, you dolt!”

Bending his head down, d’Artagnan noted a tan and white face of fur blinking up at him from hostile brown eyes. Pretending he dropped and was looking for something on the floor, d’Artagnan gazed at the cat curiously. “Dace, tis a most unusual place to be finding you.”

“Not for me it isn’t,” Dace scoffed. “But I’m very much afraid the ballroom is _out of place_ for you, mon ami.”

“That’s an understatement,” d’Artagnan huffed.

“Perhaps you should cut your losses and leave now before things grow worse,” Dace suggested seriously.

“The queen would be too disappointed considering all the effort she put into seeing me outfitted properly for this soiree.”

“Hmmmpf!” Dace turned up his nose at d’Artagnan’s flimsy excuse.

“It’s true!” About to argue the point, d’Artagnan then spotted the royal couple staring at him oddly. “Gotta go.”

“Try dancing again and I’ll shout out pointers to you,” Dace offered seeing d’Artagnan throw him back such a look of utter astonishment that Dace chuckled. “Trust me. I’ve attended enough of these functions that I should be able to at least help you keep up with the rest of the dancers.”

Walking back over to where his friends still stood, d’Artagnan couldn’t believe he contemplated taking advice from a cat.

“Why so glum, mon frère,” Aramis smiled kindly at the boy, having witnessed how poorly d’Artagnan had done with his lovely companion.

“It’s really bad when I’m reduced to listening to a cat,” d’Artagnan grumbled.

“Eh, whelp,” Porthos tapped the lad on the shoulder, “what cat?”

“Dace, of course,” d’Artagnan replied as if Porthos should have known that. “He’s under the buffet table and has kindly offered me his services, such as they are,” d’Artagnan snickered, “as a dance instructor.” Hearing a loud snort coming from Athos, he glowered at the older man. “What?”

“If you could not learn properly from Monsieur Lacroix,” Athos arched his brow, “I sincerely doubt Dace’s efforts on your behalf will amount to anything worthwhile.”

“Way ta shoot the pup down, Athos,” Porthos growled, throwing the other Musketeer a look that meant _we will talk about this later_.

“You’re supposed to lend support to your protégé,” Aramis needlessly reminded his friend.

“Gentlemen,” Athos drawled, “may I remind you that we are on duty to watch over Their Majestys,” he stabbed each of his brothers with a sharp look. “Not to hope d’Artagnan doesn’t trip over his own feet.”

“Gee thanks, Athos,” the sarcastic quality in d’Artagnan’s tone spoke volumes to his mentor, “so nice to know you’ve got my back.” Slightly hurt, d’Artagnan didn’t linger in their company any longer. He saw a young girl standing by herself near an empty row of chairs. She appeared just as lonely as he and so d'Artagnan presented himself to her.

Bracing himself for rejection, d’Artagnan introduced himself. "I'm d'Artagnan of the king's Musketeers and wondered if you would be willing to risk your feet with me on the ballroom floor, Mademoiselle?”

Giggling, Eliane appeared pleased. “Oui, I would be honored and you may call me Eliane." She knew who d’Artagnan was of course and even though he wasn’t a very good dancer he made up for it in the looks department.

Walking out onto the floor both youngsters paused as they heard someone calling out a warning to Eliane.

“Be afraid, Eliane,” Brigitte laughed, nudging her friend Aceline in the side who also joined in the amusement. For both young women had observed d'Artagnan's lack of elegance on the floor.

“Pay no heed to those two coquettes,” Eliane told the young man.

“I will try to endeavor not too,” d’Artagnan smiled gratefully at her for encouraging him. When he finally led her onto the dance floor, d’Artagnan then heard Dace in the background.

“No worries here, d’Artagnan,” Dace yelled out. “It’s a basse danse which you and your partner move quietly and gracefully too.” Waiting a beat, Dace added, “glide slowly, boy, you’re not in a race to capture a bandit now.” But a thought passed through Dace's mind that perhaps a bandit would have far better footwork than the lad.

Rolling his eyes while Dace continued to call out instructions, d'Artagnan couldn't help but notice Eliane studying him. He figured she probably thought him quite strange. Which he was for listening to a damn cat! Managing to step on her feet only once, d'Artagnan sighed with relief when the dance ended. "Be honest with me," he said sincerely. "How bad was I?"

"No worse than that gentleman over there dancing with Simone," Eliane pointed to a portly looking man whom they both had seen stumbling along through the entire dance causing Simone to scowl at him with displeasure. Ultimately leading to Simone stomping off the floor leaving the man completely alone. They noted him following her while profusely making his apologies to Simone for his clumsy moves.

"Guess that put me in my place then," d'Artagnan thought being compared to that nobleman wasn't encouraging news at all.

"Do you feel up to trying the La Volta?" Eliane tried not to laugh at the look of horror that crossed d'Artagnan's expressive face.

"Don't do it!" Dace hissed from his protective cover. "Not if you value your reputation," he went on to warn the boy.

"Mademoiselle," d'Artagnan choked out, "I can barely put one foot in front of the other and you want to see me try to hop and leap my way through the La Volta?" he was amazed Eliane even asked.

"It was just a suggestion," she said but there was a teasing quality to her voice.

"Ah!" d'Artagnan chuckled. "You're having fun at my expense, eh?"

"I certainly hope she is," Dace snorted, his voice carrying over to where the youngster stood. He knew d'Artagnan had heard him because of the glare aimed his way. If it had been a musket, Dace knew he'd no longer have a head. "Just saying," he snickered.

"Just a wee bit, d'Artagnan," Eliane heard another beautiful melody begin and her foot started tapping to the rhythm. "Let us try our hand at this one," she winked. "It's another slow piece." Both of them laughed as they joined the throng of couples on the dance floor.

When it ended d'Artagnan escorted her back to where they had met. Bending over her hand he placed a chaste kiss upon it. "Merci," his eyes twinkled. "I shall return after you've caught your breath," he grinned. "That is if you still trust me with your person."

Looking down at her feet, Eliane's lips curled upward into a lovely smile. "As long as I can still move my toes we're good."

Chuckling, d'Artagnan bowed and promised to come back. This time he headed toward where Queen Anne sat.

"And how are you enjoying yourself?" Queen Anne had been watching d'Artagnan for the better part of the evening and was ready to see d'Artagnan bolt for the nearest door. She was surprised but pleasantly so that he had not.

"There is at least one young lady here willing to risk life and limb for her countrymen in my care" d'Artagnan quipped.

"I believe you meant to say that she was willing to risk her _feet_ ," Queen Anne's eyes lit up with amusement.

"That too," d'Artagnan admitted ruefully. "I'm a bit thirsty, Your Majesty. Would you care for something to drink?"

"Non, I'm fine," she glanced over at Eliane who stood by herself once more. "Perhaps you should make that offer to your last partner."

Realizing the queen was correct, d'Artagnan excused himself and went back to the buffet table.

"You didn't do too badly on that last dance," Dace complimented.

"It was more my speed," d'Artagnan replied while filling two glasses with punch, "nice and slow."

"Is one of those for me?" Dace was so thirsty he could have jumped into the punch bowl.

"You're on your own, Dace," d'Artagnan lowered his voice, not wanting people to think he talked to himself.

"That's all I get for trying to not let you make a fool of yourself?" Dace whined.

With Dace's words wringing in his ears, d'Artagnan went over to Eliane's side and handed her a glass of punch. When they were done another dance number started up. He had wanted a longer break but if that occurred he might lack the courage to try dancing again. Holding out his hand to her he asked, "Shall we?"

"Why not?" she placed her hand in his and followed d'Artagnan out to the floor.

++++

"How much ya wanna bet d'Art makes it to the end of the night?" Porthos glanced over at Aramis' and Athos' bored features.

Aramis mulled it over for a minute but deigned to not say a word.

"Athos ya in?" Porthos asked again but all he received was a discouraging grunt in response. "I just can't have fun anymore with ya two stick in the muds," Porthos griped.

"Bien," Aramus kept his eyes focused on the king and queen, "my pockets are empty again."

Looking sideways at him, Porthos shook his head in disgust. "Ya either gave all your coin away ta the church or spent it on your latest mistress. We just got paid the other day." Seeing that Athos hadn't said anything one way or the other, Porthos pressed the man for an answer. "What's your excuse, Athos? Ya broke as well?"

"Non," Athos kept his face averted from the larger man but a small smile began to break out. "But I do not want word to reach our youngest that we placed bets on his endurance."

"The whelp would understand," Porthos tried to change Athos' mind but could tell his friend was resolved not to take that bet.

"Our assignment tonight is to guard Their Majestys," Athos kept a straight face but saw Porthos' own fall, "not placing bets."

"Yeah right," Porthos snorted. "The only thing at risk tanight is the king twistin' an ankle while dancin' and prancin' about then makin' Queen Anne take a tumble ta the floor in the process." When Aramis' shoulders began to shake with silent laughter Porthos' dark eyes filled with mirth too. "Considerin' how borin' it is that might liven' up this dull event some." Hearing Athos clear his throat more than once, Porthos got the point and shut up.

++++

"Fine form there, young d'Artagnan!" Dace hollered out while watching the lad's steps during the bassadance. "You're getting better at these slower dances." Just as he said that, Dace winced seeing d'Artagnan nearly taking a spill onto the floor. "Mind those feet!" he shouted. "And for God's sake don't let her talk you into doing the Galliard! It's as bad as the La Volta. You'd probably maim yourself for life."

Unnoticed at the other end of the table where Dace hid, a family of mice munched on crumbs that fell to the floor. The tiniest one had seen the cat and had been very afraid it would pounce on them.

"Do not worry so, petit," papa mouse reassured his baby. "This cat has more important things to eat than us tonight." He noted the cat enjoying a piece of chicken. Far more better fare than mere mice.

"Papa, why is the cat telling that boy how to dance?"

"I don't know but the boy is doing a very poor job of it," the elder mouse's whiskers twitched. "Now let's finish our meal and go home. These affairs bore me no end plus it's past your bedtime as it is."

"Oui, papa." As the young mouse finished his cheese he couldn't help but watch the boy the cat had been talking too. He didn't understand what the humans were doing tonight but it seemed to him as if the boy struggled through it. All in all he was simply glad to be a mouse and left it at that. With a nudge from his mother, the tiny mouse followed his parents as they all left.

After nearly taking his partner down onto the floor when he stumbled, d'Artagnan decided to take another break. Parting from Eliane's delightful company once more, he crossed over to the buffet table again and made sure no one paid any attention to him when he bent to scoop up Dace into his arms. Leaving the ballroom, d'Artagnan exited into another room that led to the kitchen.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dace wasn't ready to leave yet.

"You've overstayed your welcome," d'Aragnan gritted his teeth. He was more than tired of the cat's commentary on his dancing and what not to dance too. Walking through the kitchen he ignored the stares he received from the staff until he finally reached his goal... the door leading to outside. Placing Dace gently back on his feet, d'Artagnan bowed. "My thanks to you for your help this night."

"So my evening's over is that it?" Dace wound his body about the boy's legs trying to change d'Artagnan's mind. There were still good pickings in there to eat yet. No sense in letting them go to waste.

"I've survived thanks to you, mon ami, so I think you're work here is done." D'Artagnan waited to see if Dace understood he was being dismissed. He let out a long breath when the cat nodded his head and sadly swished his tail. Watching Dace head home, d'Artagnan noted that every so often the cat would pause to glance back at him probably in hopes that d'Artagnan would change his mind and call him back. Waving goodbye to Dace, d'Artagnan turned around and went back inside.

++++

"I shouldn't complain," Dace headed for the garrison stables first. "I've got a full belly and thoroughly enjoyed myself. It was a good night all around. And on top of that d'Artagnan didn't quite make a hash of it. Now to give my first hand account to Roger, Roulette and Belle. Valery can wait until I get back later. Perhaps I should hire out my services," Dace stopped as he thought about his last words. "Wouldn't work though. Drat! The only one that can understand me is the _boy_. I doubt he'd stand for becoming my interpreter; an odd pair indeed we'd appear." With that thought running through Dace's small head, he entered the stable with a jaunty bounce to his step.


	5. (Part V)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's another chapter that Elenduen gave me a prompt for.  
> She wanted to see the hounds getting into the mix with the king.  
> This one's for you, mon ami!
> 
> ++++

_Mid afternoon – Royal Forest… another day, another hunt_

The inseparables, along with d’Artagnan, Captain Treville and four Red Guards, were keeping their eyes open for any sign of trouble while His Majesty tried to bring down a stag.

Watching d’Artagnan’s shoulders shake, Porthos at first thought the boy ill. “Eh, d’Art,” he leaned over in his saddle to nudge the lad in the arm, keeping his voice low, “ya feelin’ all right?”

Turning his head slightly toward his brother, d’Artagnan shook his head. “I’m fine,” he whispered back. “The king’s hounds are talking to one another and believe it or not it's quite amusing.”

“That good, huh?” Porthos grunted, he could do with a good laugh right about now, being bored out of his skull because for the past hour King Louis had kept missing his target.

Not daring to utter another word for fear the king would look his way, d’Artagnan turned his attention back to his duty.

++++

“This is ridiculous!” the hound muttered in disgust. “You’d think the least the king could do is bring down the damn stag!”

“We go through this constantly,” another hound whined. “Getting ourselves all dirty and sweaty for what?” He stopped moving, hoping the idiot king would get the general idea his hounds were _dog tired_ , he chuckled at his own pun.

“It’s getting so that word’s spread to the rest of our fellow hounds,” a third hound spoke up. “Last I heard they were going on strike.”

“Strike? Really?” the first hound questioned. “Can we even _do_ that?”

Raising his head, the third hound snorted. “I don’t know,” he huffed, “nor do I care. But the idea has merit.”

The three hounds turned their heads upward observing the king’s falcon in flight. All of them wondered if the falcon was ready to dive bomb His Majesty.

++++

The falcon, instead of landing on the arm of its handler, settled on d’Artagnan’s pauldron startling the young man. Twisting his head d'Artagnan observed the falcon as it tilted its head to the side studying him. “Mind the pauldron, master falcon," d'Artagnan grinned. "And you would be wanting what now?” he asked the winged creature.

“A way out of this,” the falcon snorted. “Tis a waste of my time. The king is the worst huntsman imaginable,” he snickered.

Not bothering to reply, d’Artagnan shook his head ruefully. Soft chuckles escaping him from time to time so as not to draw attention to himself. Listening to a commotion near where the handlers stood d'Artagnan shifted his focus on the dogs who suddenly appeared reluctant to move from their positions, no matter how much their handlers urged them to go seek the king’s prey.

The third hound glanced back and caught the youngster watching them oddly. “What’s that boy looking at?”

“Us I believe,” the first hound replied, standing firm on his resolve not to move another foot to help the foolish king.

“He should try being one of us having to go chase all over the place, getting filthy in the process, just to satisfy His Majesty’s whims,” the second hound grumbled.

“I don’t know which is worse though,” the third hound remarked. “Being _us_ or being a Musketeer.”

“You’ve the right of it,” the first hound acknowledged. “We all have to bow before the king’s wishes, whether human or animal.”

“Hey, you know I think that youngster is speaking with the falcon,” the third hound pointed out in astonishment. “Do you think he can understand what we say?”

“A human that can talk to animals?” the second hound scoffed in disbelief. “Try your luck and see if it is so," but he doubted it.

“Excuse me for a minute,” the third hound walked away from the small group of hounds and neared the horse that carried the boy. “Can you talk to animals, young Musketeer?”

Swiveling his head around, d’Artagnan heard the voice but couldn’t see who was addressing him.

“I’m down here, boy!”

Glancing toward the ground, d’Artagnan’s brain registered that it was one of the dogs speaking to him. “Monsieur hound, how may I be of assistance?”

“Get that idiot monarch to call off this hunt for starters. It isn’t going anywhere,” he glanced back at his fellow hounds, “and neither are we by all appearances.”

“Wanting to seek the shelter of your comfortable kennel, eh?” d’Artagnan’s snuff of laughter did not go over well with the hound as it glared back at him. Scratching the back of his neck, d'Artagnan really was at a loss for words to ease this tense situation.

“In a manner of speaking,” the hound remarked, staring up at the lad with wide, brown eyes filled with hope when he realized that the boy understood him. “So you truly can speak with us,” the hound stated in awe.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan gave the animal a sharp nod of his head. “Still I have no power over His Majesty's decisions. I doubt he'd listen to any suggestion I might make,” d’Artagnan spoke quietly to the hound, but he then noticed Athos frowning darkly at him. “My superior is giving me the death glare right now which means I must go back to my duty which is watching over the king and not talking to you.”

“Oh bother your superior!” the hound huffed in annoyance. “You have to do something!”

“Unless we’re attacked I can’t do a thing,” d’Artagnan flicked his wrist at the hound, waving him away.

“Hmmpf!” the hound threw up its head, swiftly turned around and meandered back over to where the other two hounds waited for him.

"Can he help us or not?" the first hound was getting ready to bolt for the palace first chance he got and the king could go hang.

"Non, the youngster told me we'd have to be under attack for His Majesty to listen to anything he had to say," the third hound glared over to where King Louis shouted at the falcon's handlers that they weren't doing their jobs properly.

"Will someone tell me why my falcon is sitting on d'Artagnan's shoulder and not scouting for my stag?" King Louis yelled in annoyance. This whole hunt wasn't going according to plan.

"D'Artagnan," Athos drew Roger closer to Zad, "make the falcon fly away if you will." Athos warily gazed at the falcon, not wanting to anger it. "Into the sky if you could," he added wryly. "It would please the king no doubt."

"You heard the man," d'Artagnan scowled at the falcon who wasn't in any hurry to get back to work. Tapping lightly on its beak he added, "The king's irritated as it is," d'Artagnan tried to shrug the falcon off but it dug its claws deeper into his pauldron and hung on. "I told you... _mind my pauldron_ ," he hissed.

"King Louis can stay irritated for all I care," the falcon snarled. But seeing the boy roll his eyes the falcon realized he had obviously overstayed his welcome. So spreading his wings wide the falcon soared back into the air, gliding on the wind.

"Them hounds look right pissed," Porthos commented to d'Artagnan, taking Athos' place as their lieutenant rode away to be closer to the king again. Noting the pained look on their youngest, Porthos grinned hugely.

"They're fed up with King Louis' lack of hunting skills," d'Artagnan admitted. "Which I have to say I agree with." Hearing Aramis' quiet snort of amusement from behind, d'Artagnan turned in his saddle to watch the mirth dancing in the sharpshooter's eyes. "Perhaps when the king tries to use his crossbow once more you could do so at the same time, Aramis, but succeed where His Majesty has failed and bring that stag down."

"An excellent idea," Athos agreed having come back to tell his brothers to fan out. "The king won't know the difference, believing it was his skill that killed the animal."

Scratching at his beard, Aramis gave d'Artagnan's suggestion some thought. It held merit plus it meant that all of them could go home all the sooner once the king was satisfied with today's outcome. Swiveling his head around, looking over the lay of the land, Aramis asked, "Any sign of our missing stag?" His fellow comrades all shook their heads.

"Can yon Musketeer truly guarantee his aim will be perfect? If so we'll find that stag for you," the second hound had wandered back over to the Musketeer's side to see if he could be persuasive enough to get them to help. In doing so he had heard their conversation and was mightily pleased.

"Firstly, oui, Aramis has a most keen eye and the most accurate," d'Artagnan boasted. "Secondly, he doesn't understand you like I can," d'Artagnan pointed out to the hound. "But I'll play interpreter."

"Merci," the hound waited as the boy told the other Musketeer what he had said and was surprised at the sudden glare the older man turned on him.

"Aramis is a might miffed that I had to make _guarantees_ on his behalf," d'Artagnan smiled. "Rarely does Aramis miss whatever he targets with whatever weapon he holds."

"Give him my sincerest apologies," the hound said with remorse. "I will inform the others and we will do our utmost in bringing your friend the prey our king seeks." Within minutes of rejoining the other hounds they all caught the scent of a stag nearby.

Swooping overhead the falcon shouted down to d'Artagnan, "Come up with a plan yet?" Seeing the lad bob his head up and down the falcon was satisfied, flying to aid the hounds in flushing out the stag.

When the stag came bounding out of the brush where it had remained hidden from view, King Louis was delirious with glee. "There! Right over there! Ha ha! Finally!" he crowed. Taking aim with his crossbow, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him as one of his Musketeers prepared himself to do the very same.

Simultaneously two arrows were released into the air. But only one found its mark as the stag's legs buckled and it fell to the ground dead. The other arrow veered off harmlessly to the left, totally missing its target.

Giving d'Artagnan a nod of his head, along with a wink, Aramis went back about his business of guarding the king... after hiding his own crossbow of course.

"That Musketeer's quite good," the first hound remarked to the other hounds positioned off to the side near their handlers while observing the proceedings.

Going back to d'Artagnan, the third hound barked in gratitude. "Our thanks to your Musketeer. We can finally go home."

"Or not," d'Artagnan shot back as he caught wind of what His Majesty was just now saying to the Red Guards surrounding him.

"The king got his prize did he not?" the hound was puzzled by the lad's words.

"It now appears that our monarch is so pleased that he wants to extend our time out here and try his hand again." Glancing at his brothers, d'Artagnan pulled a face.

"Oh no he won't!" the hound snapped angrily and ran over to the group of hounds gathered together as they observed the king getting off his horse to take a good look at the stag.

"What now, mon frere?" Aramis noted that all the hounds appeared disgruntled if their baying was anything to go by.

Shrugging, d'Artagnan seemed confused. "I think the hounds are up to something no good being not pleased that King Louis wants to continue the hunt."

Suddenly all the Musketeers and Red Guards went on full alert when they heard His Majesty swearing a blue streak.

"That damn hound bit me in the ass!" King Louis howled in pain as he jumped around, hands on his tender posterior. "It hurts so much that I won't be able to sit my horse comfortably if at all!" he whined like a child, causing smirks from nearly everyone around him, though he wasn't any the wiser for his men hid it well. "We'll have to go back so my personal physician can tend to it." Hearing one of his guards telling him that unfortunately if he were unable to sit on his mount that meant he'd have to walk back to the palace."

" _WALK!_ " King Louis bellowed, causing some of the men to put fingers in their ears. "Unheard of! Someone will have to figure out another way for me to get back to the palace."

Knowing what was the cause behind the king's latest woes, the inseparables and d'Artagnan exchanged looks of amusement.

D'Artagnan, off his horse now on the pretense of lending His Majesty aid, walked over to the hounds and winked. "Well played."

"It was our last resort," the first hound responded, not in the least sorry over what they had done to King Louis.

"Stupid man didn't know when to call it quits," the third hound retorted. "All those arrows wasted."

"Well I have a juicy bone with my name on it calling out to me," the second hound added. "So I wasn't pleased when His Majesty wanted to continue."

Meanwhile the king's rant went on. "Oui, Merde!" King Louis swore. "I said it was the hound!" he yelled at one of his retainers. "Are you questioning your king?"

"If his voice rises another octave higher His Majesty will be singing soprano," the third hound remarked, causing the youngest Musketeer to cover his mouth with a hand as the boy tried not to laugh.

Swooping down, landing on d'Artagnan's other shoulder, the falcon blinked its large, dark eyes at him. "Whomever I have to give my thanks to has it wholeheartedly."

"How do you not know that it wasn't King Louis who brought the stag down?" d'Artagnan asked.

"That _moron_ couldn't hit the side of a barn even if he were standing directly in front of it," the falcon scoffed and then flew away back to its handler.

Laughing so hard now that tears leaked from his eyes, d'Artagnan tried to quickly wipe them away before the irate king commented on them. When Porthos rode over on Roulette his large friend's eyebrows quirked upward. Waving his hand in the air d'Artagnan choked out, "You had to be here to understand." Composing himself, d'Artagnan listened to what his brother had to say.

"I bet," Porthos grunted, shaking his head. "Come on, whelp. We're headin' back ta the palace." Then he wondered why the lad burst out laughing again. Though he heard the pack of hounds barking noisily, Porthos didn't feel it was anything out of the ordinary. Actually to him it sounded like the hounds were barking for joy.

But what d'Artagnan heard was a totally different thing as all the hounds sang out - _Hallelujah! Amen!_

The End


End file.
